


You Can Bet On It

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [38]
Category: One Direction (Band), The Vamps (UK Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: (a lot of it), (not really) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Epilogue, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Rimming, Zarry Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is fed up with the dick of his roommate so he makes a bet with Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Bet On It

**Author's Note:**

> I AM IN NO WAY OF SAYING THAT "hook-up culture" IS GOOD OR BAD BUT I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING WHEN THIS IDEA ENTERED MY BRAIN.
> 
> Kids, whatever you do in uni/college, don't make bets with your roomie.
> 
> If you don't know where the title is from, you either live under a rock or are too young to read this.

“For the last-fucking-time, you self-absorbed dickhead, can you act like a decent human being?” Harry growls at his roommate when he enters their _shared_ room with some dyed-black haired, green-eyed twink in tow. “What happened to not hooking up when we’re both in the room for the night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zayn slurs, obviously intoxicated a bit. “Don’t be rude to Kyle.”

“It’s Keegan,” the guy corrects Zayn.

“When we’re trying to fuck, shoo,” Zayn actually makes a shooing motion with his hand like Harry’s a bird or summat. “Don’t be a peeping tom.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Harry slams his notes shut, far too furious to go back to studying. “Kyle–”

“It’s Keegan,” Keegan snaps.

“Whatever your name is, fucking leave,” Harry hisses at the twink. “I have to settle down some _establishment_ with my roommate.”

Kyle—or Keegan, Harry hasn’t a care—glares at both of them before leaving the room.

“Did you have to be such an arse?” Zayn shoves at Harry, surprising him with the strength in his scrawny body. “God, I was trying to get laid.”

“I don’t know if you’re too gung-ho to realise, but it’s the revision time, so most sane people actually _study_ ,” Harry growls at Zayn. “Every other weekend, you’d bring some twink—usually with green eyes—for a quick shag and have you no respect for me?”

Zayn flinches visibly at the mention of green eyes, but Harry could’ve imagined that.

“Why, jealous I have the looks for actual sex, instead of wanking?” Zayn looks so smug.

 _Well, I did wank to—I’M NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS_. Harry mentally shakes his head.

“That was one time, Malik,” Harry groans, having a cringe attack at how Zayn came back from his _many_ night-outs a bit earlier than he said he would, and caught him jerking off.

“So you’re a virgin, aw,” Zayn sounds more cooing than jibing, which ticks Harry off even more. “It’s okay, you’re meant to have your first time with someone important.”

“Excuse you, I had sex plenty of times before,” _like twice in secondary school with that half-Arabian who had hazel eyes but—WHY THE FUCK AM I THINKING OF THESE SORT OF THINGS_.

“In dreams, sure baby,” Zayn is now full-on teasing Harry.

“I’m pretty sure I can get laid more than you if I tried,” Harry counts to ten inside his head before replying. “I may dress like a stereotypical nerd, but I do have my charms.”

“Is that a challenge, Styles?” Zayn’s amber eyes rake up and down Harry’s form, clad by rectangular-framed spectacles and a grey vest. “I doubt you can get a lay.”

“How about this?” Zayn’s eyes snap up into Harry’s own green ones. “Whoever gets more lovers by the same time next month is the winner.”

“How do we know for sure we aren’t bluffing?” Zayn asks the question Harry anticipated.

“Oh, we can snap pictures of our lovers whilst being naked, of course,” Harry chuckles.

“You can cheat those,” Zayn rolls his eyes.

“Straight male friends, or opposite ones, don’t take pictures together naked,” Harry points out.

“It’s on, Styles.”

-

The very next day, which happened to be a Saturday, he goes to Louis’ room early in the day. The sign on the door reads ‘fuck off’, which is a very classic Louis Tomlinson.

“Wake up, you little bitch,” Zayn pounds at the door with his fist. “I know you have a thing for morning blowjobs.”

“Go ‘way,” Louis’ voice—gruffer than the usual from not being fully awake—growls at him. “It’s noon-thirty, people are trying to sleep here.”

“Friendly reminder this is a fucking dorm and no one has a lock that works properly,” Zayn grins before turning the knob and opening the door. “I need the assistance of your glorious arse.”

“No, I’m not into people coming on my arse, that’s what porn is for,” Louis is still curled up in his blanket. “Shoo, like I said, it’s only noon-thirty.”

“But I need your help,” Zayn drapes a leg over Louis’ naked waist, who just groans and does nothing to shove Zayn off. “I may have made a bet with that loser nerd.”

“When will you fucking admit that you’re insanely in love with Edward Styles?” Louis scoffs, still not opening his eyes. _Rude_.

“His name is Harry,” Zayn snaps. “Not that I care.”

“Okay, why would you need my luscious arse for a bet?” Louis turns around, causing Zayn to tumble off of him.

“Basically, he was being a miserably sexless twat and betted that he can get laid more than me,” Zayn gushes out the words in less than ten seconds.

“What,” Louis arches a brow, his greyish blue eyes finally open.

“I made a bet with the Styles twat that I can get laid more than him in a month, okay?” Zayn hits Louis with the extra pillow. “And we need to take, like, proof pictures. Naked.”

“So you came to me for lover number one, fuck boy?” Louis smirks, the action curving his lips up a bit. “I’m honoured, Zayn.”

“Hush, we’ve been doing this for years now,” Zayn shoves at Louis with the pillow, which doesn’t really add that extra force he wishes it held. “Just bend over with your arse up so I can pound into you.”

“You are _such_ a good dirty talker,” Louis laughs, reaching for the lube in the bedside table drawer. “What?” He adds when he catches Zayn staring at him.

“Last time we fucked, you hid your lube under your bed,” Zayn observes.

“That was also four months ago,” Louis rolls his eyes. “You know, when you got that _slag_ as your girlfriend?”

“Well, I thought it could mutually benefit us if we fake dated,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “But I’m a man of candour–” Louis snickers, which Zayn ignores. “–which is why I didn’t come to you for a quick fuck.”

“We both know you’re more gay than bisexual,” Louis purrs, squirting some lube onto his fingers. “If I recall correctly, you like seeing me fingering myself.”

“That I do, love,” Zayn grabs Louis’ wrist and poises his thin fingers at his hole, waiting for Louis to push them in. It’s more erotic than it should be, in Zayn’s opinion, seeing his lover pleasuring himself, but he has his kinks.

After a couple minutes, Louis pulls his sticky fingers out and rubs the remnants onto Zayn’s covered shaft. They both know they’re clean, but safety before anything, right?

“Kept your hole tight for me, love?” Zayn nips at the tip of Louis’ ear before starting to push in, garnering drawn-out moans. “Maybe I should have you ride me, see that arse of yours jiggle.”

“You’re so mouthy—still, I guess—during,” Louis grits out, making it obvious he’s trying to hold is moans in. “God, you’re a horrid person.”

“That’s not what your sister said in her bed,” Zayn winks, creating a rough pace against Louis’ prostate. They’ve been friends since secondary school, and when they both realised their sexual orientations, they decided nothing can go wrong if two best friends just fuck each other whilst horny. A release is healthy for any person in their prime.

“She’s only sixteen, you arse,” Louis shoves at Zayn—or tries, as Zayn chooses that precise moment to fuck into Louis all proper. Louis actually screams, like he’s being murdered, to which Zayn smirks at. It doesn’t take many strokes after that for Zayn to fill up the condom, and he wanks Louis until he comes over his fist.

“Let’s take that picture proof, yeah?” Louis cuddles Zayn close to him.

-

“Have I told you lately that you’re an idiot?” Niall hisses to Harry.

“Bitch, I had higher GCSE scores than you did,” Harry hisses back. “But… no.”

“What kind of a nerd would be stupid enough to make a bet with _the_ Zayn Malik on something as stupid as what you did?” Niall continues on. “He gets, like, fifteen blokes every week.”

“Gee, thanks for your support,” Harry rolls his eyes. “But it’s revision week, surely he wouldn’t be slacking off?”

“How are you even planning on winning this shite?” Niall arches a brow.

“Well, I can start with having sex with you,” Harry gulps. “Do you remember your birthday party last year?”

“Oh my God, we were both drunk,” Niall slaps his own forehead. “We agreed not to talk about that!”

“What I’m saying is that we aren’t exactly unacquainted with each other’s bodies,” Harry presses on. “Just fuck me once so I have a chance at winning this.”

“Ugh,” Niall groans.

Harry grins and proceeds into ridding themselves of their clothes. He knows that Niall can now see he’s red all over, but that doesn’t really matter.

“We’re best mates, don’t you think it’s gonna get awkward between us after we have sex?” Niall asks, the obvious ‘you’re basically using me for sex’ loudly unspoken.

“It’s not like—this bitch,” Harry growls when he checks his phone and sees that Zayn’s sent him a new picture message.

 

**From: Dickhead Roomie**

**Still thinking you can do this?**

**Sent 13.02**

There’s a picture of a guy with brown hair kissing Zayn’s cheek, looking directly into the phone’s camera.

“Oh hell no,” Harry growls. “He’s got a head start.”

“Is that Louis Tomlinson?” Niall asks after snatching the phone from Harry’s hand. “Dude, he’s in my Drama class! I’d wank to his arse.”

“Whatever, I don’t want to lose,” Harry gets the lube from Niall’s desk. He slicks his own fingers up and fucks himself—he means _preps_ himself—with them. Niall watches him with hooded eyes, his erection pressing into Harry’s thighs.

“Things you do for your best mate,” Niall mutters, pressing his condom-clad cock to Harry’s fluttering hole. Harry moans gravelly when Niall starts to push in, the stretch feeling so good. It’s been a really long while since the last time he had sex, so. Niall buck his hips up, expertly locating Harry’s prostate somehow. Harry lets out a small mewl, covering it up with a moan from embarrassment, and lets Niall take full control of their little sex session. Niall is relentless with his strokes, almost too hard and fast for Harry, but that only means Harry comes onto Niall’s stomach untouched. He feels Niall shuddering below him as the Irishman comes as well.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Niall presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

The curly haired lad giggles.

-

“I can’t believe Harry actually got laid,” Zayn growls as he sees the picture of Harry with some blond he recognises as a classmate from his English Literature. “I didn’t even _know_ he had a fuck buddy.”

“I’m a booty call now?” Louis huffs, still undressed whilst Zayn has on his black jeans. “Rude.”

“Hey, don’t act like you’re against it,” Zayn pats on top of Louis’ head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go revise.”

“I’m sorry, but did you just say the ‘r’ word?” Louis remarks snidely.

“Yes, I do have to study if I want to graduate,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “Harry might think I’m going to sleep with a shitload of people for next four weeks, but I’m not an idiot, Louis. If I spend every waking hour trying to seduce people, I will for sure flunk the exams and get yelled at by my parents.”

“Ah, I get it,” Louis grimaces at the mention of Zayn’s parents. “You and your father aren’t really…”

“Yup,” Zayn pulls a blue jumper over his head. Louis is the only person outside of his family who knows about his fragile relationship with his father.

Simply put, if Zayn flunks, his dad will stop all the funding he has for university.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Louis asks, already curled up into a ball in his blankets.

“Revise, then go to a club or something if I have any time left,” Zayn shrugs. “Have a nice nap, Louis.”

“Good luck with your stupid bet!”

-

_One week later_

Harry hasn’t got the chance to seek lovers after Niall, what with the impending finals and all. He didn’t get any pictures from Zayn either, so he guesses that his dickhead of a roommate is on the same boat.

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry growls from his desk, looking at his notes for Philosophy. “Can’t you see I’m trying to study here?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Zayn pauses his music, the loud noises stopping momentarily. “I’m studying too.”

“No, you’re listening to music _obnoxiously loud_ just to annoy me,” Harry growls again. “Do you have a life outside of annoying me?”

“Oh please, I study better with the music on,” Zayn snaps at him before turning the music back on, louder than before.

Harry throws his hands up in defeat and gets his stuff to head elsewhere.

Elsewhere being the library.

The library closes at 21.00 for those who live in the dormitory, and since he has the pass, he can go there.

“Well, you’re a pleasant surprise,” a voice Harry _feels_ like he should recognise muses mostly to himself. “I never saw anyone here past 19.00.”

Harry turns around to find a tall bloke—yet still not taller than him—with warm brown eyes. He remembers the other as someone from his Economy class.

“I feel like I should know you,” Harry mumbles with an apologetic smile. “Like, I know your face, just not the name.”

“Liam, from Econ class,” the lad—Liam—returns the smile. “I’ve never seen you without... um…”

“My glasses?” Harry prompts. He resumed wearing contacts he’s been avoiding forever, and hasn’t take them off yet. “I thought I could use some change.”

“You look hotter with glasses though,” Liam smirks, seemingly unabashed. “God, I could fuck you right here and now.”

“Oh,” Harry replies intelligibly. “Um… I mean…”

“You’re the nerdy type that looks hot as fuck,” Liam’s suddenly in front of Harry, one calloused hand cupping his chin, thumbing at the bottom line of his lips. “Someone who’s most likely to scream out his lover’s name as he comes.”

The words are having an _effect_ —to say the least—on Harry and he sees Liam’s eyes flickering down.

“You’re turned on, nerdy boy?” Liam purrs into his ear, his free hand now on Harry’s semi-erection. “I can help you with that.”

“I’m not going to—um— _do it_ in public,” Harry mumbles, hoping Liam heard him. “I’m not—I’m not into exhibitionism.”

“We can go back to my room then?” Harry gasps at the feeling of Liam’s hand groping his arse. “I got a single room so you don’t have to worry about my roommate walking in on us.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Liam are both naked, swapping spit in Liam’s bed. Harry hasn’t kissed a lot of people in his (eighteen years of) life but he can tell that Liam is a glorious kisser. The way Liam nibbles at his lower lip every now and then, and how his fingers are twisting in his hair…

 _Holy shit_ , Harry remarks intelligently.

“What was that, love?” Liam grinds into him, their bare hard-ons pressed together. “God, I can picture you being so fucking tight.”

“Mm?” Harry arches his back, knowing that the friction isn’t enough. “C’mon, fuck me hard like you said you would.”

“I need to prep you and get a condom,” Liam _tsks_ , grabbing the said bottle. “Unless you prefer going dry?”

Harry glares at his one-off.

Liam takes his precious time in prepping Harry, pretty much until Harry threatens to walk out of the room.

“I may be a nerd, but I still get— _oh my God_ ,” Harry unintentionally clenches around Liam, not expecting to be so _full_. “You’re so— _fuck_.”

“Never pictured you to be so mouthy during,” Liam smirks so snidely, it shouldn’t be a turn-on for Harry. “Why, like my dick already?”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Harry groans out.

Liam does exactly that, not giving any time for Harry to, like, adjust to the girth, and just ploughs into him in careless strokes. Harry bites into the pillow—given he was on his stomach, which just allows Liam to be sheathed more inside of him—just to muffle his loud moans. Judging by how skilful Liam is, he had his share of lovers.

“Can you come like this, love?” Liam nips at Harry’s earlobe, breaths stirring the hair at the dip above the shell. “Don’t need to jerk you off, do I?”

“Fuck me harder,” Harry begs, then remembers Liam can’t hear him, so he repeats after lifting his head. “Fuck me harder, Liam.”

“Gladly.”

Liam pulls Harry up by his hips, getting him on all-fours, and really fucks into him. It’s so hard and fast, sound of skin slapping skin overriding Harry’s moans. Harry only needs to thumb over the slit of his cock to drip all over Liam’s bedsheets, and Liam follows, knotting the condom after pulling out.

“That was the best shag ever,” Liam flops onto the bed. “But for now, I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry replies.

Three minutes later, Liam’s snoring, so Harry takes that as a good time to take the ‘proof selfie’.

-

**From: Nerdy Roommate**

**Look at how much of a puppy he looks like!x**

**Sent 20.43**

Zayn grits his teeth at the image of Liam and Harry, lying in the bed naked, together. He sure as fuck underestimated that nerd.

“Something twisting your knickers?” Louis snickers, munching on his bag of crisps. “Ooh, did that Harry kid get laid?”

“Apparently,” Zayn knows Liam from his English Literature class. “He fucked Liam.”

“I’d do him,” Louis purrs. “Actually, he can do _me_.”

“Which him?”

“Liam,” Louis gives him a _duh_ look. “I hear he’s on the rugby team.”

“With those muscles, he probably is,” Zayn nods. “Oh fuck, I have to find a shag now.”

“Relax, I’m pretty sure it was a pity fuck,” Louis frowns; Zayn’s pretty sure he just finished his crisps. “So, who’s next on your list?”

“I don’t know yet,” Zayn admits, as embarrassing as that sounds. “There’s this kid in my Graphic Design class though.”

“Mate, there are at least fifty students in each class,” Louis rolls his eyes—Zayn doesn’t need physical proof that his sassy as hell friend just did. “Be more specific.”

“The one with sort of curly hair and monkey onesie,” Zayn replies. He knows the last bit because once, the university thought it was good for ‘school spirits’ to have ‘spirit days’ and George was wearing a cute monkey onesie for the _Onesie Day_. “I could totally fuck him.”

“He doesn’t look like a type to have a casual one-off,” Zayn meets Louis’ gaze evenly. “You have to be a bit more convincing if you’re going to shag and run off.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Zayn rubs at his slightly dusted chin. _I probably have to shave soon_.

-

“You fucked _who?_ ” Niall yells at Harry in his room. “Oh my God, give me the details.”

“There aren’t any details to give out,” Harry groans. “We saw each other at the library, he told me he thought I look hotter _with_ glasses on, then he shagged my brains out. End of.”

“No, I mean _details_ ,” Niall wiggles his brows. “You know how some people get invited to his parties during the summer and say that he has a big dick.”

“Because it’s so reliable to believe those horny fucks who judge Liam’s dick size by how they were contained in his swimming trunks,” Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m not telling.”

“Ooh, wanna keep that your little secret, between you and him?” Harry has the decency to blush at that. “I’d totally ride his dick and call him ‘daddy’.”

Harry gives his best mate _a Look._

“What?”

-

Zayn is shite at planning, so he just goes with his instincts.

“Hey,” _oh God, that was awful_. “I’m Zayn.”

“I know,” George is flushing, Zayn can fucking see that the twink is flushed just from talking to him. “I mean, everyone’s heard of you.”

“Heard of me how?” _I swear to God, I’ll slit a bitch’s throat if I’m known as the slut on this campus._

“That you’re extremely _talented_ ,” George says the last bit in what Zayn guesses as his sexual purr.

“So you’re indirectly calling me a slut,” Zayn grimaces. “Do you have any other classes this afternoon?”

“Is that your way of asking me if I want to sleep with you?” George sounds more confident now, the red tint fading from his pretty face.

“I guess?” _Oh, so smooth, Zayn, really._ “I mean, I’m not forcing you into anything.”

“You’re making it more complicated than it should be,” George giggles, he actually giggles like a small child would; there’s no way in hell that sound qualifies as a chuckle. “Why would I say no to sleeping with you?”

 _The fact that I have a stupid bet with my roommate saying I can fuck more people than he can in one month_ , Zayn comments inside his head.

“My name’s George, in case you didn’t know already.”

“It’s hard to forget your name if the prof speaks so highly of you,” Zayn shrugs. He’s more of a painting or drawing kind of guy, but he decided to take Graphic Designs for a change. “One of her protégés, if I may daresay.”

“You’re just complimenting me for a lay,” George—teases?—retorts. “My place or yours?”

 

_Twenty minutes later_

“I hope you aren’t virgin,” Zayn knows he’s shite at dirty-talking, “because I’m going to fucking wreck your arse.”

“I’m nineteen, for God’s sake,” George pants, both of them gloriously naked, from the snog session they were having. “So just get on with it, gosh.”

Zayn grins and does a quick job at locating the lube, (the bedside table, how cliché) and slicks his fingers up. George nods at them, a silent sign that he can proceed. He pushes one finger, met by hell of resistance.

“Been a while,” a flush covers George’s pretty face. “Um, third year and everything.”

“S’alright,” Zayn presses their lips together in a gentle kiss. He isn’t known for being gentle, not really, but for some reason, he wants to be with this kid.

Like he’s going to break easily.

Zayn takes his sweet time in prepping George, and by the time he’s finished, George is glaring at him with a condom packet open. Zayn throws a smirk at the other bloke before taking the condom and rolling it onto his shaft. He squirts a general amount of lube, strokes himself to spread the liquid-y stuff, then positions himself at George’s core. It’s cute, how the _slightly_ curly, _brown_ haired boy is flushed from his cheeks down to his neck, but he’s pretty sure he was like that when he was the inexperienced one. He dips his head down to resume their kiss, bottoming out in one smooth stroke. The moan George lets out goes straight to his dick, (when he himself isn’t straight) and gets him even harder, if that was possible. He starts with slow, sensual strokes, not wanting to hurt the lad more than possible. He seems to be enjoying it, the soft grunts and moans reassuring he’s doing a decent job at that. Zayn grabs the base of George’s thigh and hitches the leg over his shoulder for more leverage, causing George’s eyes to flutter close. Zayn can only guess that he found to prostate so he wraps a hand around George’s leaking shaft, pumping him several times before George comes with a whisper of Zayn’s name. Zayn follows suit, releasing into the wretched barrier.

(He’s not saying he wants to have unprotected sex all the time, he just misses the times he’d go bareback when he knew for sure both he and his partner were clean.)

“M’gonna take a nap…” George yawns after Zayn pulls out, knots the condom, then throws it into the trash can. “Wanna cuddle with me?”

“Sure,” Zayn smiles at the lad.

Once George is snoring and mumbling about bananas, he takes his phone as discreetly as possible, and snaps a picture of them together.

-

_two weeks later_

 

Zayn zeroed on his next victim— _lover_ —and the kid might be easier than George.

Bradley Whatever-his-middle-name-is Simpson is a Year 1 student in his filler class (he thought taking a first year class for credits wouldn’t hurt him) with adorably fluffy hair.

(That may or may not be curly.)

“Can I sit here?” Zayn asks Brad casually at the beginning of their Psychology lecture. Yes, Zayn has never taken Psych classes before, hence the reason why he’s in the first year level.

“I know you,” Brad wrinkles his nose. “My friends told me about you.” He’s quick to amend his words.

“What did they say about me?” Zayn smiles at the younger lad, taking a seat beside him.

“That you tend to break people’s hearts after sleeping with them with no attachment whatsoever,” Brad sounds so callous, it surprised Zayn. “So if you’re approaching me to fuck me, I’d say you should at least treat me with a nice dinner.”

“I don’t talk to people just to—okay, maybe I do,” Zayn lets out a dramatic sigh Louis would be proud of. “Which restaurant should I take you to? French? Greek? Italian?”

“Are the rumours about your parents being some sort of royalties in business stuff true?” Brad arches a brow; Zayn doesn’t comment. “Okay, maybe you won’t just tell me… fine, take me to some fancy diner of _your_ choice, where you’d spend a lot of money for your beloved.”

 _The way Brad says the last bit…_ Zayn considers silently. _It’s like he’s onto something_.

“Fine.”

_Later at that night_

 

“There’s no way in _hell_ you can afford this place,” Brad’s chocolate-brown eyes are blown wide. “No fucking way.”

“Well, I do come from a wealthy family,” Zayn smirks, gesturing at Brad to go into _The Ivy_.

“You made reservations on such short notice?” Brad’s mouth is gaping, and Zayn can’t really blame the kid. It’s _The Ivy_ for crying out loud.

“Extra fifty quid for that, but not a big deal,” Zayn takes that sweet time to appreciate Brad in tux. He told his ‘date’ to dress formal.

**(Le skipping the awkward dinner scene)**

“Bet you were waiting all day for this, weren’t you?” Brad smirks underneath Zayn, still in his briefs. Zayn, on the other hand, is fully nude. “Fucking me for some sort of benefits.”

“You think so lowly of—actually, I guess I have a rep,” Zayn pecks Brad’s lips, then starts a trail leading down to the younger lad’s stomach. There’s hardly any body hair on the small bloke—and Zayn never liked fucking hairy men to start with—so it doesn’t feel so gross.

(No offense to hairy men.)

“Anyone would kill to spend the night with you,” Brad replies; his breath hitches up when Zayn’s teeth scrape at his shaft through the thin barrier of his briefs. “Are you as skilful as they claim?”

“Maybe,” Zayn tugs the barrier down with his teeth, freeing Brad’s hard-on from its confinement. “You tell me.”

“I really haven’t, um, been with a lot of people,” Brad’s face flushes. “Maybe three people?”

“Casual, meaningless hook-ups from secondary school?” Zayn ventures, giving the length of Brad a tiny lick.

“Maybe.”

Zayn does a quick job at prepping the fluffy haired boy and sheathing himself in a condom. He knows he’s clean, yes, but he doesn’t want to start fucking people bareback and spread STI’s around the campus. He pushes in slowly, pressing soft kisses on Brad’s cheekbones as he gets used to his size. Once the pain converts to pleasure, Zayn starts to thrust in and out of Brad.

He’s never going to admit that he pictured someone else, whose green eyes sparkle with so much life when the owner’s mad at him, as they both came together.

So yes, he feels guilty when he takes a selfie of them together when Brad falls asleep.

_Why do I feel this way?_

-

 

**From: Dickhead Roommate**

**Stop whilst you’re ahead if you think you can win.**

**Sent 21.35**

 

“Is it considered nudes that you’re sending each other?” Niall prompts, which only results in Harry throwing a slice of chips at him. “Hey, you are technically naked under those covers.”

“I find it super weird that he knows both you and Liam from his English Lit class,” Harry doesn’t recognise the twink Zayn just fucked though. Maybe saw him once or twice around the campus. “Who the hell am I supposed to sleep with now? He’s had three and I’m still at two.”

“I don’t think you’re desperate enough to sleep with, you know, professors,” Niall scoffs at his concern. “And I don’t have a lot of gay or bi guy friends.”

“Wow, thanks for the support,” Harry throws another soggy piece of potato at his best mate.

“I have an idea but it’s not the best,” Niall looks solemn for once.

“What?”

-

For once, it’s a Friday night and Zayn isn’t at some wild party thrown by jocks or _whatever_. He really needs to ace the exams (or at least get high grades) for the sake of his parents’ funding.

So when someone knocks on the door at about 1 bloody AM, it’s tad bit infuriating.

“You fucking know that the door is unlocked!” _Only the RA’s get rooms with proper locks_.

“Hi!” Harry stumbles into the room, giggling madly. “Why are you spinning?”

“You can’t even stand on your feet, you idiot,” for whatever the reason, he’s in a teasing mood. “How much did you drink?”

“Six!” Harry hiccoughs, holding out two fingers. “Oops, that’s not six, that’s four.” Harry adds another finger. “That’s six now, right?”

“You’re drunk,” Zayn states the obvious. “Why were you at a bar dressed like–”

For the first time since Harry walked through the door, Zayn _really_ looks at what the hell Harry’s wearing. To start with, he isn’t wearing that horrid vest over a cotton shirt, complete with some slacks. Instead, Harry has on a tight-fitting black t-shirt that’s hugging his torso perfectly. He has a thin (Zayn guesses) dark grey, almost black, duster coat over it. And the skinny jeans, oh Lord, they’re just so fucking _tight_ on Harry.

“You, um, nice clothes!” Zayn _doesn’t_ do stuttering, nope. He _did not_ just stutter of some fucking nerd. _A nerd I’d like to fuck, yeah_. “Didn’t know you even had them.”

“For— _hic!—_ parties I used to go when I was— _hic!­­—_ in secondary school,” Harry’s giggling and hiccoughing at the same time, which is oddly cuter than Zayn would imagine. “Didn’t really want to wear stuff like these all the time.”

“You don’t have to dress like a stereotypical nerd,” Zayn rolls his eyes, and being the good Samarian he is, as he drapes Harry’s freakishly arm around his shoulders to guide him to his bed.

(Harry’s, as tempting as it was to put Harry in his own bed was.)

“You need to sleep,” Zayn tries to put Harry to bed, which turns out to be more difficult. “C’mon, you’ll be better, with a headache, in the morning.”

“No!” Harry giggles again. “I’m too hot to sleep like this!”

“Um, want me to, like, undress you?”

Harry looks at Zayn lustfully.

“Mm, I didn’t know it’d take for me to be drunk to get you in my bed,” Harry giggles. “You’re so fucking _hot_ Malik, but you’re also a big dickhead.”

“I don’t think you insult the person you’re trying to seduce, love,” Zayn starts with Harry’s coat, throwing it in direction of Harry’s drawers. “If that’s your goal.”

“Went to a bar for a quick shag,” Harry grimaces as if the bad memories are attacking him. “They weren’t _nice_ to me, Zaynie. One of them was groping my arse on the dance floor.”

“That’s sort of what the bar is for?” He gets thwacked in the chest with a pillow. “Alright, I guess I deserved that one.”

“I know I’m a nerdy loser so I thought if, if I went to a place where no one— _hic!­­_ —knows I’m a nerd, I can get laid without people pitying me,” Harry sounds awfully like he’s in a sharing mood. Then again, drunk words are sober thoughts. “And possibly win that stupid bet.”

“You said I’m hot but also a dickhead,” Zayn reckons Drunk Harry is friendlier towards him than Sober Harry.

“Ever since I walked into this room at the start of the year when our dorms were sorted,” Harry giggles. “Or was that before school started?”

“You think I’m hot,” Zayn waggles his eyebrows.

“And also a _big_ dickhead,” Harry giggles, just as Zayn manages to take those tight-arse jeans off of Harry. “Ooh, you’re really gonna undress me?”

“You always sleep in your boxers or briefs anyways,” Zayn growls, because nope, he isn’t developing a boner right now.

“You sound so… strained,” if Drunk Harry hiccoughing and giggling at the same time was cute, Drunk Harry trying to say words in a sexual purr is funny. “I just— _hic!_ —know you want me.”

“Yeah, just because you ditched your horrid nerd style doesn’t mean I’ll–”

Zayn will be damned, because Drunk Harry also happens to be a dominant little fucker. Zayn had no time before Harry pushed his head down for what seems to be the sloppiest kiss in Zayn’s life. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Harry is a bit of a lot inebriated, but Zayn doesn’t mind when he’s _finally_ kissing Harry.

His crush on Harry was… cache, to say the least, so he hid his feelings by being a dick to Harry. Like Harry pointed out few weeks ago, Zayn usually hooked up with twinks with green eyes because, fuck, he really likes Harry’s green eyes. Fucking random green-eyed blokes didn’t do justice when they didn’t sparkle like Harry’s when they were having a dispute.

“Harry,” Zayn gets some degree of self-control back and pushes Harry off. “You’re drunk, and I really hate how our first kiss happened because you were drunk.”

“But Zaynie!” Harry pouts. _List of things Drunk Harry does number three?_ “It’s only twelvty—no, what number comes after that number after ten?” Harry frowns.

“You got piss drunk,” Zayn sighs. “I know you aren’t going to remember this in the morning, but I do care about you, and had a crush ever since the first time I saw you because of your gorgeous fucking green eyes.”

“I want to stay awake!” Harry giggles.

“Close your eyes for a second, I got something for you,” Zayn hopes that Drunk Harry will fall for that trick; he does.

Seconds later, Harry’s snoring, still in his chest-hugging t-shirt.

“‘Night, Harry,” Zayn kisses Harry’s temple.

-

Harry wakes up with the worst headache he’s ever had.

“Fuck hell,” he blindly paws at the bedside table, where he usually keeps his glasses, but they aren’t there. He opens his eyes to see that he’s still wearing them.

“Morning, nerd,” Zayn’s sipping his coffee, sat on his bed. “You were totally fucking wasted last night.”

Harry frowns. He remembers getting to that bar near the campus… there was a cute bartender who kept giving him free drinks… then he got to the dance floor where a bulky dude kept groping arse…

And everything’s a blur after that.

Sure, he remembers seeing Zayn when he got back to the dorm, but what did they say to each other?

Trying to remember worsens his headache.

“I got you some Advil,” Zayn chucks an entire bottle of it at Harry. “I may be a dick, but you’re still my roommate so don’t get weird thoughts on why I’d get those for you.”

“That’s… awfully caring of you,” Harry rubs at his temple, where it feels like a thousand needles are poking at his brain. “What did I say to you?”

There’s a flash of Zayn telling Harry about green eyes but it goes as quickly as it came.

“That you think I’m hot,” the smirk Harry loves to hate is on his stupidly handsome face. “But we both knew that.”

“You told me something too,” Harry rubs at his eyelids, even though he knows the likeliness of that improving his chance of remembering is slim to none. “I know we had a conversation, if you’d call it, when I was wee bit tipsy…”

“‘Wee bit tipsy’?” Zayn scoffs loudly. “You could barely stand and you were giggling the entire time you and I confessed–”

Zayn stops abruptly, his eyes widening for a millisecond.

“What do you mean, we confessed?” Harry narrows his eyes with suspicion. “What did you tell me, and vice versa?”

“Nothing important,” Zayn growls. “Be glad I got you something for your godawful hangover.”

Zayn tries to leave the room, but Harry catches his wrist before he can get far from him.

“Zayn fucking Malik,” Harry growls at his roommate, “I swear to God, I will–”

Harry’s fairly shocked that Zayn would _kiss him_.

And it’s more shocking that his lips don’t feel foreign.

“That’s how you shut me up last night,” Zayn whispers against his lips. “You were drunk, and I was trying to get you to sleep.”

“And I refused to, typical,” Harry supresses a giggle. “Did I try to sleep with you?”

Another flash of Zayn talking to Harry, this time with both of them are on his bed.

“Like, sleep? Or _sleep_?” Zayn bites at his lower lip; Harry gives him _a Look_. “The latter.”

“Judging by how my arse doesn’t feel so sore, you didn’t,” _which is highly un-dickish of you_. Harry adds silently. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I may have told you how I truly felt about you.”

Harry gasps at the proximity they share. This has to be the only time—that he can remember—they’re standing this close to each other without yelling over stupid things like undone laundries. There’s barely any space between their lips, a thin layer of air being the only ‘barrier’ between them. Harry initiates the kiss this time, their lips mashing together in a perfect harmony. Wordlessly, Zayn pushes Harry back onto his bed, his back connecting with the bedsheets. Harry moans at how Zayn is kissing him, because there’s no way in hell Liam is a better kisser. He takes it back, _Zayn_ is the best kisser he’s ever going to kiss. (And hopefully the last.) Zayn’s tongue is spiking against his in a sensuous rhythm, like he’s trying to tease him by preview of what he’d do to Harry’s dick. (Hopefully.)

“Are you okay with this?” Zayn frowns down at Harry, his thighs bracketing Harry’s waist. “I mean, we don’t have to make love—I mean have sex just because we both realised how stupid we were acting…”

“I think this qualifies as making love if we’ve been in— _crushing_ on each other for so long,” Harry giggles, doing a quick job at ridding themselves of their hateful clothes. “Don’t make me wait any longer, Malik.”

-

“Don’t make me wait any longer, Malik.”

Zayn scoffs, (“Ow!” Zayn rubs at the spot Harry bit on his shoulder. ) and gets the lube from Harry’s desk. It’s not like Zayn was snooping when he found Harry’s lube hiding place, nope. He coats his fingers with lube and prods them at Harry’s hole. He could have _sworn_ that Harry clenched his arse just from the touch. Zayn grins and pushes two in at once, almost moaning (maybe he let out a tiny little moan) at how tight Harry feels around his fingers. He crooks them once they’re fully sheathed, jabbing at Harry’s prostate. Harry squirms with a gravelly moan, the sound going straight to Zayn’s dick. Zayn grabs the base of Harry’s thighs and lifts them up into an angle it’s comfortable for what he’s in store for him. He looks up to see Harry looking at him with a curious frown when he licks at the stretched rim of Harry’s hole. Realisation dawns on Harry’s face with a dark blush, an adorable sight. Zayn chuckles and delves his tongue in under his fingers, not surprised how Harry clenches his arse around him again. He thrusts his tongue in synch of his fingers, garnering mewling and panting sounds from Harry.

“Think you can take my cock now?” Zayn asks Harry smugly after putting the condom on. “I mean, shit, that sounded cocky.”

“Of course I can fucking take it,” Harry growls, his green eyes lighting up with that ire Zayn’s grown to love. “Oh my God, we’re fighting even when we’re about to have sex.”

“That’s our thing,” Zayn laughs, spreading their arms and interlocking their fingers together, as he presses their chests together. “We can’t just suddenly be lovey-dovey.”

Zayn thrusts in all the way to the hilt at one stroke, kissing Harry hard to distract him from any pain he could be feeling. Harry just moans against his lips, their arms above their heads. He gives a few test strokes before building up a pace. He releases one hand to jerk Harry off as he roughly pounds into the cute nerd he’s fallen in love with, neither of them holding back their moans. Screw ‘em if their floor mates are going to complain about their sex noises.

“M’close,” Harry moans out, reaching for his cock to touch himself, instead of Zayn doing it, but Zayn shifts his grip on Harry so that he’s Harry’s wrists in his hand. “Don’t be a dick!”

“No, no,” Zayn relinquishes his hand on Harry’s shaft altogether. “Let’s see if you can get off from my cock alone.”

Harry lets out a frustrated grunt, which soon dissolves into a moan as Zayn thrusts into his prostate again, but doesn’t do anything. Zayn grins to himself and fucks into Harry harder until they’re both spent.

“Is it too early to say I love you?” Harry giggles, now on Zayn’s body to curl up like a kitten or something.

“Not when I can say the same,” Zayn pecks Harry’s temple. “I love you too.”

Harry giggles.

“By the way, Harry?” Harry looks piqued. “I won.”

-

_Sometime in June_

“I liked it much better when they both pretended to hate each other,” Niall groans as he steals a bacon strip from Louis, his sort of boyfriend. Harry thought it would be great to have his and his boyfriend’s best friends to get acquainted. “Like, they weren’t being couple-y around us.”

“Same,” Louis duplicates the Irishman’s groan.

“Whatever do you mean?” Harry asks innocently, his nose still touching Zayn’s from their Eskimo kiss.

“That,” Niall barks out.

Harry giggles as he Eskimo kisses Zayn again.

Oh, how their relationship started thanks to a stupid bet.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/PerfectPorceln)


End file.
